"I refuse to use y/n so I give her oc name"???? SO IS NOT A READERINSERT ISN'T, WHY DONT YOU DO (F/O)/OC IS NOT THAT HARD OMG I HOPE THE A03 CURSE GET TO YOU
(If you have a problem about this post just block me and dni)
your husband who loved calling you his wife— even outside of moments of necessity.
and the most fascinating part? he wasn't even aware of the fact how often he did it. he knew he did say it, but he wasn't aware of the fact how often he did. those two words, simple yet undeniably laced together with love and reverence, often tumbled out of his mouth before his brain could catch up.
"my wife would like these flowers," he had said to the wholesome elderly florist when he was about to buy a bouquet of your favorite flowers before returning home to you, his wallet— which had a small polaroid of you in it, by the way— already in hand.
"my wife did mention this the other day, now that i think about it." he had said to his friend who was rambling about the latest trending internet gossip.
"for my wife. i trust there isn't an issue?" he had simply said to the cashier upon noticing the way they lifted an eyebrow at the grocery basket filled to the brim with your favorite snacks, to which they gave a solemn, approving nod at his answer. good husband.
"my wife went out to run an errand, but she'll be back soon." he had even said to your best friend when they came to visit you, to which they replied with a very teasing smirk; "you could just say her name, y'know."
"my wife shouldn't pay when I'm around," he had said when you were about to pay for something, holding out his card before you could pull out yours.
"a reservation for my wife and i, please."
"sorry, my wife is waiting for me. i must take my leave now."
"yes, that's my wife— i'm quite proud of her."
"I can take it from here, sweetheart. can't have my beautiful wife overworking herself now, can i?"
and the list went on.
and yet, you didn't mind it. not at all— you had no reason to. your heart always did that funny little flip whenever he'd call you his wife the way he did, the corner of your lips never failing to curl into a smile. he would always say it so naturally— so genuinely, like those words were etched onto his soul for your very existence alone. and you certainly didn't miss the way his tone would sound a touch softer everytime he referred to you, like you needed to be spoken of with the utmost care and gentleness.
so, one day, you decided it was about time you struck.
"you call me that a lot."
his hands— which were reaching for the kitchen towel to dry his hands with after washing the dishes, yes, the dishes because chores are shared in this household— paused midway. he turned his head to look at you, where you had been perched on the counter, your legs swaying ever so slightly.
"call you what?" he inquired with a small tilt of his head, reaching for the towel at last and patting his hands dry.
"you know, your wife."
he immediately caught onto the teasing glint in your eyes, yet; it was unmistakably edged with a hint of affection.
for a moment, he just stood there wordlessly, blinking once, then twice, his brain taking its sweet, sweet time to allow your words to sink in. you, on the other hand, were practically straining your eyes to catch on any shifts in his expression or posture.
and then, you caught it; the faint reddening of the tips of his ears. he subtly cleared his throat, and your smile stretched into a grin.
alas, that dazzling curve of your lips disappeared as soon as it appeared when the man suddenly approached you in a swift few strides, standing between your legs and pressing his palms on either side of the counter which you sat on to cage you in.
you blinked.
"i do, yes."
he didn't even try to deny it. well, he didn't have a reason to. you were his wife, after all. where was the lie in that? and of course, he was absolutely proud of it.
then, he leaned in slightly, his tone lowering. "unless you prefer i stop calling you that?"
oh, now he was the one with that mischievous little twinkle in his eyes. inwardly, you faltered at the sudden boldness of his actions, your fingertips twitching against the surface of the counter. but outwardly? two can play the game.
then, with a deceptively sweet smile, you tilted your head, shot your hand forward and yanked on the collar of his shirt with force— his body jerking towards you.
"not at all," you smirked, inching closer. "i can't say i mind when my sweet husband calls me that."
his confidence faltered for a moment. you were about to internally celebrate your small victory until one of his hands slid up from the counter, now resting on your hips, his fingertips lightly pressing into your skin.
"... let's hear that again."
let's just say, ever since that faithful encounter, "my husband" had also started slipping out.
and every time? it got to him. oh, it definitely did.
(not my second fluff also taking place in the kitchen lol. i promise it's gonna be different next time.)
Luuk's hands trembled slightly as he cupped your face, his thumbs brushing softly over your cheeks while his eyes locked onto yours with a tenderness that made your heart flutter. “My sweet love,” he whispered, his voice a gentle murmur that sent shivers down your spine.
He leaned in, pressing his lips to yours in a slow, lingering kiss, his tongue teasing the seam of your mouth until you parted for him, allowing the warmth of his mouth to explore yours with unhurried passion.
His fingers trailed down from your face, tracing the line of your neck, then lower to the swell of your breasts. He broke the kiss just enough to watch your expression as he cupped one breast in his palm, his thumb circling the nipple until it hardened under his touch. “You're so beautiful,” he breathed, lowering his head to take the peaked bud into his mouth. His lips closed around it softly, sucking with a gentle rhythm that made you arch into him, a soft moan escaping your lips.
His tongue flicked over the sensitive tip, swirling and laving it with care, while his free hand mirrored the attention on your other breast, pinching and rolling the nipple between his fingers just firmly enough to spark pleasure without any pain.
Luuk's mouth moved from one nipple to the other, sucking and nibbling lightly, his breath hot against your skin as he lavished attention on them.
“My darling,” he murmured against your flesh, his voice vibrating through you. “Luuk it feels so good!” You moaned softly, his hands slid down your sides, fingers splaying over your hips, pulling you closer until your bodies pressed together, his growing erection nestling against your thigh. He kissed a path down your sternum, his lips soft and reverent, pausing to suckle each nipple once more before continuing lower.
Luuk parted your thighs, settling between them as his hands caressed the insides of your legs, starting from your knees and moving upward in slow, soothing strokes. “Let me take care of you, my precious,” he said, his eyes dark with desire but filled with love.
His fingers reached the apex of your thighs, brushing lightly over your folds, feeling the wetness that had gathered there. He groaned softly at the discovery, his touch feather—light as he traced the outer lips of your pussy, spreading the slickness around without rushing.
He dipped one finger inside you, just the tip, curling it gently to stroke your inner walls while his thumb found your clit.
Luuk circled it slowly, applying the barest pressure, watching your face for every reaction. “Does that feel good, sweetheart?” he asked, his voice husky but still so tender. You nodded, gasping as he added a second finger, sliding them in and out with a languid pace, his thumb continuing its gentle massage on your clit, building the heat between your legs incrementally.
Luuk's mouth returned to your breasts, sucking one nipple while his fingers worked your pussy, the dual sensations making your body hum with need.
He released the nipple with a soft pop, kissing his way back up to your lips, capturing them in another deep kiss as his fingers thrust a little deeper, scissoring slightly to stretch you, “I love feeling you like this, my love,” he groaned against your mouth, his thumb pressing firmer on your clit, rubbing in tight circles that had you clenching around his fingers.
Sensing your readiness, Luuk withdrew his fingers, bringing them to his lips to taste you, his eyes never leaving yours. “So sweet,” he murmured, then positioned himself at your entrance, the head of his cock nudging against your pussy.
He pushed in slowly, inch by inch, giving you time to adjust to his thickness, his hands stroking your sides reassuringly. “That's it, darling, take me,” he encouraged, his voice strained with restraint as he bottomed out inside you, filling you completely.
He paused there, buried deep, leaning down to suck gently on your nipple again while his hips rocked in tiny circles, grinding against you to heighten the friction. “You feel perfect around me,” he said, lifting his head to kiss you softly.
Then, with the utmost care, he began to move, pulling out almost all the way before sliding back in, his thrusts long and measured, each one designed to stroke every sensitive spot inside you.
His hand slipped between your bodies, fingers finding your clit once more, rubbing it in time with his thrusts. He alternated between sucking your nipples—left, then right—his mouth warm and insistent, tongue lapping at the hardened peaks as if they were the sweetest treat. “My beautiful girl,” he panted between kisses to your breasts, his pace steady, intimate, never rushing toward the end. Your legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer, and he obliged, angling his hips to hit that spot deep inside that made stars burst behind your eyelids.
Luuk's free hand tangled in your hair, tilting your head back so he could kiss your neck, his teeth grazing lightly before his lips soothed the spot. He thrust deeper now, but still gently, his cock gliding in and out of your pussy with a wet, rhythmic sound that filled the air. His thumb pressed harder on your clit, circling faster, urging you toward the edge. “Come for me, sweetheart,” he urged softly, his mouth returning to your nipple, sucking hard enough to send jolts of pleasure straight to your core.
The combination overwhelmed you—his cock filling you, stretching you with each tender thrust; his fingers on your clit, slick and precise; his lips and tongue on your breasts, sucking and teasing without mercy. Your body tensed, pleasure coiling tight in your belly, and Luuk sensed it, whispering, “Let go, my love, I've got you.” His thrusts grew a fraction firmer, his thumb relentless, and you shattered around him, your pussy clenching rhythmically as waves of orgasm washed over you.
He didn't stop, riding out your climax with slow, deep strokes, his mouth never leaving your nipple, sucking softly to prolong the bliss. Only when your tremors subsided did he quicken slightly, chasing his own release, but even then, his touch remained gentle, his fingers still lightly stroking your clit to keep the aftershocks humming. “So good for me,” he murmured, kissing you deeply as his hips stuttered, his cock pulsing inside you as he came, spilling hot cum deep into your pussy with a low groan.
Luuk stayed inside you, collapsing gently onto your chest, his lips finding your nipple once more for a lazy suckle as you both caught your breath. His fingers traced idle patterns on your thigh, occasionally brushing your clit in soft, affectionate touches. “My darling,” he whispered, nuzzling into your neck, his cock softening but not withdrawing yet, keeping you connected in the intimate afterglow.
After a few moments, he shifted, pulling out slowly and immediately replacing his fingers there, sliding them into your cum-slicked pussy to gently massage your inner walls. “Let me clean you up a bit, precious,” he said with a soft smile, though his touch was more about prolonging the pleasure than necessity. He curled his fingers, stroking that sensitive spot while his thumb resumed its gentle circles on your clit, building you up again with patient insistence.
His mouth latched onto your other nipple, sucking rhythmically as his fingers pumped in and out, the lewd sounds of your combined fluids making the moment even more erotic. “You're still so wet for me,” he observed tenderly, his voice full of awe. You moaned, your hands threading through his hair, holding him to your breast as the pleasure rebuilt, slower this time but no less intense.
Luuk added a third finger, stretching you anew, his thrusts deliberate and unhurried, focusing on your g-spot with each curl. His thumb pressed and rubbed your clit, varying the pressure to keep you on the edge without pushing too hard. He switched nipples, sucking the one he'd neglected, his tongue flicking rapidly now to match the growing urgency in his touch. “Come again for me, my sweet love,” he encouraged, his eyes meeting yours, filled with adoration.
The intimacy of it all—the way he watched you, the petnames laced with genuine affection, the gentle way he touched every part of you—pushed you over once more. Your pussy fluttered around his fingers, another orgasm cresting softly, and Luuk kissed you through it, his mouth claiming yours as tenderly as he'd claimed your body.
He withdrew his fingers eventually, licking them clean while gazing at you with love. Then, impossibly, his cock began to harden again against your thigh. “One more time, darling?” he asked, already positioning himself. You nodded, and he entered you smoothly, the mixture of your releases easing the way. This time, his thrusts were even slower, more sensual, his hands everywhere—stroking your breasts, pinching your nipples lightly, then down to rub your clit as he fucked you with loving precision.
He suckled your nipples alternately, his mouth greedy but soft, humming against your skin as he drove into you. “I could stay like this forever, inside my perfect girl,” he whispered, his pace building just enough to tip you both toward release. His fingers danced on your clit, slick and insistent, and when you clenched around him, he followed, filling you again with his cum, his groans muffled against your breast.
In the aftermath, Luuk held you close, his lips brushing your nipples in feather-light kisses, his hand resting possessively over your pussy, fingers occasionally teasing your clit in lazy circles. “My everything,” he sighed, content and sated, the two of you entwined in endless tenderness.
With all the overwhelming love you have for your husband, some days it feels… lonely. Unbearably so.
The weight of his departure even when dawn has yet to break plants an undeniable ache inside of you.
You know he has duties that need to be fulfilled, knew what he needed most was an understanding partner that let him work unbothered. A partner that didn’t get in the way.
Now, it was midnight. You were awake on the couch, and your lover wasn’t home. You’ve long become used to this, but it hurts all the same. And of course you couldn’t stop the tears from falling.
You were breaking apart. It felt like all the memories of the past were all that you had left of him. He wasn’t around for the long days and nights you weathered alone. And you loathed the idea that he one day would not return.
You numbly twirl the wedding band on your finger, vision blurring with tears.
A part of you felt you didn’t deserve him to begin with.
You let these feelings of hurt and pain consume you, until you didn’t even notice when the door opened as you broke out sobbing, utterly broken. Stupid, stupid, stupid.
You finally notice him once he’s kneeling down in front of you.
“Sweetheart,” he breathes softly, hesitantly, as if afraid of scaring off a wounded animal, and oh, how long had it been since he actually looked at you like that? Since you’ve heard his voice spoken so tenderly?
He’s here. He’s here and all you can do is cry harder.
“Sweetheart, hey, what’s wrong?” He’s not touching you, giving you space and time to talk to him and it hurts, it hurts because you wish he’d wrap his arms around you, crush you so close and hard to his chest and never let you go. And you want him to be tender, and cradle you gently and whisper softly in your ear and you want to hear his steady heartbeat that tells you he’s okay, and he’s here, and he loves you.
But you can’t voice any of this. Not when you’re bawling. You try to call out his name but your voice just breaks and god, you hated yourself so much. You scrub roughly on your face.
“Baby, stop that.”
Your hands are gently but firmly pried away, and he comes to sit beside you, warm hands cupping your face, forehead resting against yours. This feels so familiar and foreign all at once. It’s been so long.
“Baby, talk t’ me,” he pleads. Your eyes wander over his furrowed brows, his eyes laced with a fierce concern and determination all at once. Determination to help you. To comfort you. To give you the space you need, but not being able to distance himself.
You’re sniffling and trying to stifle your whimpers. You try again, whispering his name against his lips.
“Yes,” he says quietly, “I’m here. You’re okay.” He tucks a strand of hair out of your face, and kisses you. It’s like you’re both kissing for the first time and you’re nervous and uncertain. But he still kisses you, and he pulls away but you whine softly, and he chuckles and obliges when you pull him back in.
You’ve finally calmed down enough to settle into a peaceful silence, your arms wrapped around his neck and his arms around your waist.
“Ready to tell me what’s wrong, baby?”
You mumble something along the lines of ‘not yet’, but that doesn’t stop you from whispering your next words: please stay.
So he does. And he just holds you until you fall asleep in his arms, and when he carries you back on the bed and kisses your forehead, he spends what feels like hours just staring at you. At your lips, your cheeks, the delicate curve of your nose.
At the bags under your eyes. The dried tears on your face.
It’s after a long, long period of time that he lays beside you, pulling you close and relishing in the soft sigh that escapes you, the way you snuggle closer into his chest.
When morning comes, you awake to an empty bed.
The disappointment crushes you beneath its weight. And then confusion when the scent of food reaches your nose, and the sound of oil sizzling on a pan.
Your heart skips a beat. Hope springs to life inside you, enveloping you in its warm embrace.
Please stay.
Last night replays in your mind, along with the last words you had said to him.
There’s a tall glass of water on the nightstand. You down it in seconds.
Took a deep breath. Stepped out on shaky legs into the kitchen.
There stood your husband, an apron tied low on his waist, his hand stirring eggs on a pan.
For a moment, you just stare at him, because he’s real and he’s here and the house isn’t cold and empty. He’s your husband. He’s yours.
There were many times in the span of your marriage where you felt like things would always be lonely. That this was just what it meant to marry a man like him, with more duties and responsibilities than you could fathom. Moments where you felt hopeless, and anxious, and scared.
Then there would be moments where you’d wake in the middle of the night, or the early, early hours of the morning before he’d be gone. It was in these moments that he’d be right beside you, holding you close as if shielding you from the world.
No matter what, he had always returned to be right by your side.
cw; gender neutral! reader, sfw with a sprinkle of winkwink, basically just a smooch from qiuyuan aha
For a man without eyesight, QIUYUAN can do a lot of things.
He can pierce the hearts of his enemies with ease, cook meals without batting a lid, discern both familiar and unfamiliar surroundings in an instant, read your emotions better than any man with two working eyes could ever hope to — you get the gist of it. He fares just like any other person.
You wouldn’t have known he was blind, really, not unless you looked close. Not unless curiosity got the better of you and you finally asked about his eyes — those elusive, cloudy things that never seemed to look directly at you, no matter how hard you tried to catch them.
(“What? You’re telling me you’ve been blind this whole time?”
He does not reply.
You were about to ask how a man who cannot see could cultivate such precise swordsmanship, until you remember something from a distant past.
“But you mentioned I had a fair face during our first meeting.”
He does not elaborate.
“... You have no sight and now you can’t speak?”
He does not make an excuse.)
And in that manner, you truly think it is strange.
For all his practiced, almost perfect ways of adapting to a life of a blind man, for all the subtle precision of his movements and the effortless grace that makes everyone else look clumsy — Qiuyuan always, always, seems to forget where your lips are each time he leans in to humor you with a kiss.
You like to think you know enough that you are not oblivious. In fact, you are well aware of how his forte functions in relation to his surroundings, having been… loved a lot… by him, yet this does not placate your confusion.
Qiuyuan is sharp and concise in everything he does. He never wastes time. He never rushes either. Every movement of his is deliberate, efficient. Most details are trivial to him; he only cares about the things that matter to wandering swordsmen — sharpening their blades, bathing in rivers, mending their coats by the firelight. He may notice everything, even the things in between, yet very rarely does he make them his business.
(Thinking about it, you recall the time he mentioned he liked the frequencies of your bold personality, that or it was the smell of your virtues. What did he mean by this?)
All in all, why would kissing you be any different?
If anything, he seems to take his time with it — tracing the ridge of your eyebrows, brushing the faint frown between them, mapping the moles scattered across your cheeks and neck as if they were constellations he needed to memorize. His fingers trail the bridge of your nose, linger at your lashes, circle your cheekbones in slow, unhurried motion, before resting the pad of his thumb on your bottom lip.
Your entire being feels like it’s on fire.
Qiuyuan is sharp and concise. He never wastes time. So what is he doing?
“Your thoughts,” he murmurs, his voice a low rumble that slides under your skin. “I sense chaos within it. Do you want to share?”
His eyes — that muted gray, misty and distant, as if trapped in a perpetual haze — are directed right at you. And for some reason, it's now you who can’t maintain eye contact. You look everywhere but him, at the stars stitched into the sky, at the restless trees swaying with the wind — anything to forget the feeling of the feather-light pressure of his thumb on your lip.
“D-don’t look at me like that.” You stutter against your will.
“I can’t see, nor look,” he replies evenly. “I am simply facing where a threat looms.”
Like lightning, your eyes are on him immediately, raising a brow at him. “What threat?”
He chuckles, rare and quiet, and your stomach flips at the sound. “That’s what it takes for you to look at me. Interesting.”
You glare, half annoyed, half flustered. “Qiuyuan, what are you trying to say?”
“Your temperament is truly a wonder I can never hope to comprehend,” he dismisses your glare like he always does — calmly, playfully, infuriatingly — and leans closer still. His breath ghosts across your cheek. “Do you not like it when I let my hands wander?”
He already knows what's bothering you. Of course he does.
Yet that tone teasing, deliberate — to make innuendos is not like him. Againt your better judgement, it sends heat curling through your chest, fueling the warmth of your face. Still, you force yourself to stay on track, to pretend you’re not already melting under his touch.
(You’d let him do anything he wanted to do to you, you realize with a dangerous clarity.)
“You always touch my face like that before you kiss me,” you say quietly. “Why is that?”
He pauses. Not long, but long enough for you to feel the shift in the air between you.
“Back when we first met, I did not lie when I called your face fair.”
You blink, unsure whether to laugh or fall apart. He senses your confusion, and treads further.
“Is it not right for me to appreciate it,” he adds, “now that we are much closer?”
When he leans in again, it is slow and unhurried. The air grows still, heavy with something unspoken. You can feel the warmth of him, close enough that your breaths tangle in the space between.
His hand moves slightly, fingers brushing against your jaw, lingering like a phantom.
The rest happens somewhere between thought and sensation. A shift forward, the briefest contact, so light you might have imagined it — and then stillness, a silence that hums louder than any sound could.
You do not move. Neither does he. And yet something in you has already unraveled.
For a man without eyesight, Qiuyuan can do a lot of things.
He can fight, cook, survive — even sense the smallest flicker of thought that crosses your mind.
But kissing you into a puddle of madness?
That, you think faintly, as his fingers slide into your hair and his lips tilt into a small, all-knowing smile against yours — might just be your favorite of all.
teacher!alpha!m!reader x student!blind!omega!Qiuyuan, fluff;
student!Qiuyuan who has never been keen on finding love. He’s not particularly interested in these topics and believes that no one would want a blind omega anyway
student!Qiuyuan who never lets his instincts get the better of him. He never shows reactions typical of an omega. Can’t flutter his eyelashes in a flirtatious manner, speak in higher pitch or calm another person with his pheromones
student!Qiuyuan for whom the only way to experience world is through smell and hearing. But who at the same time, stubbornly uses scent-blocking patches so that no one will ever smell his scent. Too afraid of showing his weaknesses and being compared to omegas. Who has been on suppressants his whole life, almost losing the ability to experience heat
student!Qiuyuan who despite being blind, feels others’ “disgusted” stares on him. Someone like him? An omega?
student!Qiuyuan who has always had very low self-esteem when it comes to being an omega. What fun can you have dating someone who can’t see? Others surely believe he can’t participate in typical teenage activities… And in the future, it would surely be too much of a burden and responsibility to support someone like him. He’s probably not even as pretty as other omegas… Not only is he a man, but he’s also over six feet tall... He’s not like those charming, alluring omegas with delicate facial features and petite, curvy figures. He’s leaner and more bony, damaged by life. He doesn’t give off a harmless, friendly vibe that invites you to approach him. Surely no one would want to choose him…
student!Qiuyuan who is even ashamed of his own scent. A bamboo forest in the morning, sprinkled with fresh dew. Refreshing and gentle, yet at the same time unusual due to a heavy, earthy note… Definitely unlike those sweet floral or cheerful citrus aromas that carry through the corridors behind “true” omegas
student!Qiuyuan who has hated alpha scents since childhood, having grown up in a house full of betas. Who, with a hypersensitive sense of smell, easily detects bad intentions and nasty character of alphas. Who knows that a campus full of teenagers with raging hormones is like a battlefield. That you can’t find anyone trustworthy here
student!Qiuyuan who is always reserved and lonely. A typical, quiet student, not really interested in lessons. Sitting in the back row by open window. Who prefers to stick his head out toward the sounds of sports field and feel pleasant wind breeze on his face. Only form of relief in a stuffy room overflowing with overlapping scents of pheromones
student!Qiuyuan who never tries to make friends, always assuming isolation and rejection. To whom over time, other students are even afraid to speak
student!Qiuyuan whose reluctance to his classmates and whole pessimistic attitude towards love change, when one afternoon, a newcomer walks into a classroom…
student!Qiuyuan who for the first time, takes a deep, joyful breath of alpha’s pheromones. Turns eagerly towards the blackboard- Hoping to see that one-of-a-kind individual- Only chance to reverse his miserable fate-
student!Qiuyuan who in fact unfortunately “sees nothing”. As if for a moment he had completely forgotten that he is blind… But despite the bitterness on his tongue, he feels a strange peace and happiness in heart. As if your distant presence alone is enough to heal wounds of hurt omega
student!Qiuyuan who sensing your dominant yet warm and friendly aura, knows you have good intentions. He believes you wouldn’t harm anyone. And he swoons not only at your scent but also at your gentle chuckle, triggered by a comment from someone in front row
student!Qiuyuan who is surprised when he senses that instead of heading towards some potential “friend” from another class, you’re moving towards teacher’s desk. He gasps upon hearing you introduce yourself as new teacher, replacing the homeroom teacher who went on maternity leave. And immediately he withdraws into his shell again. Despairing over the hopelessness of his situation. Scolding himself for ever deluding himself into thinking that fate would grant him a friend…
student!Qiuyuan who is even more surprised when one Friday, you approach his desk after class. You crouch down next to his chair, looking up at him patiently. He feels your gaze on him and senses that radiant warmth he experienced when he first met you. He doesn’t understand however why you decide to make an effort and cross the entire length of room just to talk to him. And why you try to make him feel comfortable, waiting peacefully for other students to leave a classroom
student!Qiuyuan who doesn't know what to say when you ask in a sweet voice if everything is okay. When you are the first person in this cursed school to take an interest in him. When you don't overwhelm him with adult beliefs, additional assignments or requirements necessary to pass to next grade. When you simply let him know that if he ever needs anything in the future you will always be here
student!Qiuyuan who begins to wonder if all young teachers entering this profession are like you. Full of passion and fighting for student’s well-being- Because yes, even from the tone of your voice or sound of your footsteps, he can sense that you’re very young, not much older than him. And besides, he becomes assured of his belief when he decides to eavesdrop gossips. For the first time since childhood genuinely intrigued by another person- Everyone is talking about you. Omegas, betas, alphas. Girls and boys. Whether out of fascination or jealousy. You’re on everyone’s lips. Young hot teacher. It only takes a day for you to have your own fan club
student!Qiuyuan who mortified, catches himself listening whenever he hears your name nearby. Who unconsciously records every little detail about you in his memory. These fangirls really do have incredible talent and passion… Your favorite drink which you always use to moisten your throat during lectures. Food you most often choose for lunch. Other teachers you get along with best. Place where you most often eat dinner and where it’s easiest to run into you outside of school hours. What kind of car you drive or what brand of shirts you wear most often. Not to mention how many buttons you leave undone and how you roll up your sleeves to your elbows because you constantly feel as if it's too hot
student!Qiuyuan who eventually comes to conclusion that he already has met several younger teachers in his life. And that none of them are as noble as you. And certainly not that PE teacher who immediately cut him off from any activities. Odering him to sit on a bench as soon as he realized that Quiyuan was "that blind kid"
student!Qiuyuan who for the first time, starts paying attention in class. Though only in yours… and instead of basking in breeze, he turns his head towards you. Listening to what you're saying. He actually starts taking an interest in topics you bring up. Genuinely absorbs knowledge and realizes it isn’t as bad as he’d assumed. At least when someone is truly passionate about what they do and when you can hear excitement in their voice… Qiuyuan finally comes to school with a smile, rather than dragged there by the need to please his beloved parents
student!Qiuyuan who realizes that even though you’re kind and understanding towards all your students, joking with them regularly during class, it’s only him you show such great care for. You have such a special approach only towards him- And this isn’t that "special treatment" he’s experienced from other teachers. Where he passed from year to year with lowest grades, because others had given up on him. Not believing he could ever become of any use to society. Out of pity, turning a blind eye to his lack of participation or wrong answers. As if completely ignoring his presence throughout whole school year
student!Qiuyuan who is as happy like a child when you give him a bad grade for an oral response but at the same time encourage him to retake the exam. Finally, someone actually takes him seriously. Shows interest. Doesn’t fake his results and at the same time believes he is capable of more. Even that slightly disappointed tone, which you try so hard to hide, is like flattery to him. Though he definitely prefers to hear you when you’re satisfied and proud. Especially of him…
student!Qiuyuan who finally decides to knock on your office door. Seeking help and hysterically apologizing for not making it during office hours. But for the past two hours, he really couldn’t summon the courage. And the fact that he finally approached your door was really just a random impulse
student!Qiuyuan whom you have to calm down before you two can even talk. Leading him to a sofa, gently stroking his hunched back and serving a cup of steaming lemon tea. Worried about omega’s state, you grab any opportunity to calm his nerves. But only thing that really works is your alpha soothing pheromones and your low, gentle voice assuring that everything will be okay and that you’re not mad
student!Qiuyuan who after talking to you, realizes for the first time that he has a future ahead and that he should fight for it. With shining eyes, he listens as you acknowledge how much he’s had to go through since losing his sight and that the very fact that he manages daily tasks so well shows just how capable he is. How much he can accomplish with his other sharpened senses. And how much he should and must work hard. Not only to prove his worth to others but also to provide for himself and his family in future. Because in your eyes, he is more than capable of it. He doesn't have to be left solely at the mercy of others
student!Qiuyuan who is almost moved to tears when you say he inspires you
student!Qiuyuan who from that moment on, truly changes his life. Begins to learn even from other teachers. Not wanting to just sit around on PE while others play team sports, he starts running on his own on a track around the field. During classes he raises his hand to surprise of the rest and actively participates in lessons. He no longer skips homework but actually tries to complete all his projects
student!Qiuyuan who manages to improve and catch up on material only thanks to your help. Thanks to almost daily tutoring sessions for which you never accept any money. You always explain things so clearly and your tips are so helpful- You never yell at him; you just patiently help him find the solution. And you record the most important topics for him on a voice recorder. Later, Quiyuan always does the best especially on these things. Maybe because he listens to them over and over just to enjoy your voice in privacy of his room… On headphones, because he’s too embarrassed to admit to his family that he’s obsessed with some alpha’s voice. For whom he made space on his phone by deleting all music playlists
student!Qiuyuan who treats you like his master. Everything you say is sacred. He takes every piece of advice to heart and faithfully performs every request. He seeks your approval. To the point that when he gets his report card he runs to you first. Just to hear that tender chuckle and a few words of praise. To feel as you smile warmly at him and ruffle his hair. That tingling feeling… His omega has never felt better
student!Qiuyuan who is ready to bare his fangs at anyone who dares to say a bad word about you. He’s never gotten involved in such conflicts before but now he’ll do it without a second thought. And he doesn’t care that as an omega he’s standing up to some alpha. You believe in him. That’s why he walks out of a fight without a single scratch. His fist stained red from a contact with a nose of that rude, disgusting alpha
student!Qiuyuan who, despite his negative feeling and bad experiences with alphas, trusts you unconditionally. His omega feels safe with you and is willing to do anything for you. All you have to do is ask. Although that lecture about not getting into fights seems to have fallen on deaf ears…
student!Qiuyuan who out of gratitude, asks his mom to teach him how to make bento. Overjoyed she agrees right away. Thrilled at the thought that her little boy has finally fallen in love and found himself a good alpha. Completely unaware that her beloved son leaves all boxes with bento on his teacher’s desk. Every day before classes start. Before anyone else has a chance to wake up as early as Qiuyuan and arrive at school. Although at first you try to convince Qiuyuan that there’s no need for him to do such thing, that what you buy on your way is more than enough, over time you can’t wait to see colorful notes with a message left under wooden lid.
student!Qiuyuan who loves it when you pamper him. When you always bring him something to drink. Make sure your office is aired out before he arrives. Treat him with sweet candies as a reward for progress on completed tasks
student!Qiuyuan who is happy that there is finally someone who understands his problems and with whom he can talk about matters concerning only omegas and alphas. It’s a little embarrassing that during breaks from studying, he talks about such things with an alpha... But considering that he grew up in a house full of betas who can’t relate to his situation or urge of instinct, you’re definitely the best option
student!Qiuyuan who is fascinated examining every corner of your apartment when he visit for the first time. Your flat is rather modest but spacious enough and well-kept. And above all, it’s your own... You’ve worked hard for it while Qiuyuan still lives with his parents... He praises your taste as much as he possibly can. As long as his message gets through to you and you feel appreciated
It's just... for all week you were too busy with meetings and other teaching duties. You couldn’t meet with him for tutoring, so it was only polite to suggest that he visit you over a weekend to catch up. Though you weren’t sure he’d agree... But he did it in a split second. As soon as the information reached his brain. With a loud “yes!”, after which he immediately got embarrassed and hid his face in his long black hair. Too bad, because that peach blush really looks wonderful on him...
student!Qiuyuan who only realizes he has a little big crush on you when you accidentally kiss him. It happens when you’re sitting across from each other on a small sofa... At the sight of his face bathed in sunlight you suddenly lose your words. And he, abruptly confused, looks up from a braille books you bought him. When you are "gazing" into each other's eyes like that... you lean in and press a quick kiss to his plump lips. Completely swept up in the moment
You swear you can hear his heart suddenly racing-
student!Qiuyuan who quickly gives in to you. Or do you give in to him? And your sweet “innocent love” begins to sprout in shadows of your secret meetings
student!Qiuyuan who spends his free time at your place more and more often. He feels almost at home there. Often cooks dinner for you, trying to get rid of your bad eating habits. He even cleans up sometimes, wanting to feel a bit like the lady of a house. And you don’t mind when he “rummages through your drawers.” You want him to feel at ease at your house
student!Qiuyuan who leaves plenty of his stuff at your flat and also gets a lot of new "small" things. Like a personal toothbrush to keep there, a matching mug, personalized slippers-
student!Qiuyuan who, under the pretext of sleeping over at a friend's house, sneaks out of family home to spend the night in your arms. And your shirt… Which despite his tall figure, is always too loose on him and hangs off his lean body like a dress
student!Qiuyuan who heals his insecurities and begins to love his body as he experiences how you react to it. Feeling of your gaze devouring him, loud gasps, whistles, hands exploring places they shouldn’t... Who melts away in the compliments flowing from your lips. Though his eyes show no reaction, out of embarrassment he still closes his eyelids. Trying to hide from you. Burrowing as deep as possible into bedsheets-
student!Qiuyuan who almost bursts into tears when you accidentally catch a whiff of his pheromones for the first time. Firstly out of panic and then out of gratitude. This happens when he starts to feel a little too at ease around you and forgets he’s not at his family home. Where betas can’t smell him anyway. And forgets that after his morning shower, he needs to put his scent-blocking patch back on. When you suddenly gasp and inhale the air in kitchen, he turns to you terrified. He’s afraid you’ll be disgusted and that you’ll finally realize you deserve someone better. That he isn’t such a adorable omega and that it’s better if you kick him out of your apartment. When the opposite happens and you start going crazy over his scent, he can’t believe it. In every spare moment, you bury your face in his scent glands and soak in this relaxing scent. Sometimes, when he’s very busy, he tries to push your face aside. But you’re too strong. So Qiuyuan begins to proudly share his pheromones with the world. His colleagues look at him in surprise and he just smiles from ear to ear. If his alpha likes it, that’s more than enough. And since his scent can bring you comfort, he is happy to always be on duty
student!Qiuyuan who massages your aching temples after a hard day at work and plants butterfly kisses on your face while you try to fall asleep on his lap
student!Qiuyuan who gets easily jealous of your exes. And always makes a grumpy face when he accidentally comes across their photos in your old album. But he understands that you don’t want to throw away the photos where you’re with whole group of friends from your youth
student!Qiuyuan who feels your gaze on him during every class. Struggling to hold back his omega’s reactions, especially during preheat. After he stops stuffing himself with suppressants and slowly regains his ability to go through heat. These situations are the worst. Innocent blushes, hidden from classmates by curtain of hair, turn into clenched legs. Struggling to hold back the burning sensation inside
student!Qiuyuan who is disappointed and yet even more in love, impressed by your composure as you reject his advances in fever time and declare that you’ll only truly experience heat with him once he finishes school. Thus rebelling against your alpha and keeping your instincts in check
student!Qiuyuan whom you help in these difficult moments by playing the role of errand boy and protecting his nest. Not daring to get into bed, only sitting close on a floor and simply stroking Qiuyuan’s head
݁ ˖ ♯ 𐔌 𝒘𝒖𝒘𝒂 𐦯 ⋆ . ft. qiuyuan 𝜗𝜚 ⸝⸝
【 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆𝒔 】 : 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘴 𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘤𝘳𝘪𝘱𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘨𝘯!𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳. 𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘴𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘵𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘴, 𝘥𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘤 𝘴𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 / 𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘧𝘭𝘶𝘧𝘧. . .
⟢ ✉️ ྀི 𝒘𝒄 : 2.1k+ ꗃ sypnosis : a wandering swordsman, and a love patient enough to wait for every spring. in all honesty this is just a fluff scenario <3
【 QIUYUAN . ⊹₊⋆ ✉️ ྀི 】
⟢ , it’s been a lunar cycle since you last watched the white cranes paint the sky. a lunar cycle since spring’s first roots pushed through the soil and turned toward the riverbank. and a lunar cycle since you last felt that familiar breeze of resonance brushing at your step. . .
you knew it wouldn’t be long now. somewhere beyond the rice fields, a figure would be walking the worn path toward the village gate. . . unhurried in ways to measure your patience.
a cart rolled by and you almost smiled at your own hope. no, not yet. . . then another set of steps—quieter, sure. but they stopped at the gate. by the time you looked up, he was already there beyond the fence, one hand resting over the sheath of his sword and just as fast your pupils gleamed.
“ā-yuan! i thought you might’ve gotten lost!” you called out, louder than necessary. you knew he could hear the smallest whispers, but teasing him like this had become a habit.
qiuyuan’s head turned slightly toward your voice with the smallest hint of a smile tugging at his lips.
you met him halfway across the stride, running the last few steps before his arms found you. he caught you easily, the practiced grace of someone who knew your movements better than his own. your laughter stuttered into a breath, and he felt it—the tremor that came before familiar tears. his palms rose, tracing the curve of your face, momentarily brushing your cheeks and memorizing the plump skin he yearned so long to feel.
“come now. you’ll make me think i’ve been cruel, staying away this long.”
you shook your head against his shoulder anyway, the scent of dust and spring air clinging into his fabric. “then don’t cry,” he murmured, his voice barely louder than the breeze. “i made it back, didn’t i?”
you laughed through another breath, the sound uneven. “for how long this time?” he hesitated. you felt it in the way his hand tightened briefly at your back, the faint hitch of air before he answered. “as much as your safety grants me,” he said at last.
you pulled back to look at him, eyes rimmed at the edges but still holding contentment. “just say forever.”
“. . . if only i could,” his thumb brushed beneath your eye again, catching what was left of your tears. “the days mean little out there. . . my dear, i—” he paused, tilting his head as though ashamed.
you reached for his hand. “you don’t have to explain anything,” guiding it toward the small gate latch. “come inside,” you said quietly. “i made us stuffed tofu.”
the house still smelled faintly of sweet osmanthus and river clay. his steps were light, almost soundless, but you still watched each one, ready in case the uneven boards caught his foot. “you changed the furniture,” he noted, fingertips brushing the edge of a table.
“only a little,” you said. “it makes the entrance cleaner.”
you led him to the table where the meal awaited, steam curling like pale silk. if only he could admire just how much time you had put on the presentation of the dish. . . qiuyuan tilted his head slightly, sensing the frequency of your silence. “what’s wrong?” he asked, a faint smile tugging at his mouth. “did you spend the whole morning arranging the table for someone who can’t see it?”
you sighed, shoulders loosening. “maybe. i thought it’d make you feel better, from whatever’s going on out there.” you said, turning to the window.
"then it must look beautiful," he said simply. shifting gently to sit on the floor cushion. you rolled your eyes, though your lips curved despite yourself. "compliments to the cook i’m guessing?"
"many," he murmured, fingers finding the chopsticks with practiced ease. "but i'd still rather have you describe it to me. tell me how it looks today."
you hesitated, watching the way the steam touched his face before sitting down beside him. "well. . . i added lemongrass to the clear soup before steaming the tofu," you said quietly. "and i marinated the meat in chili oil. so the color looks brighter and it might be tangier than usual. and i—umm, i collected some wintry bells and honeysuckles for decoration.”
“that so. . .” he murmured, the corners of his lips lifting faintly. “a little too fancy for my liking?.”
you laughed under your breath. “yeah, that’s basically it. i’m just hoping the lemongrass doesn’t mess with the flavors.”
he allowed himself a smile. “don’t worry, it won’t. the aroma is soft.” he set his chopsticks, felt for the bowl, and lifted a piece of tofu to taste. he took his time, chewing, breathing through his nose.
“any good?” you mumbled, watching him reach for the soup. “maybe too much chili?”
“just enough.” he angled his head. “did you eat yet?”
you blinked. “i was waiting for you.”
“don’t,” he said, matter-of-fact. “even if i’m late, you eat. i don’t like the idea of you sitting here hungry.”
“it gives it time to cool down,” you muttered playfully before taking your own bite. maybe it was the moment or the nerves, but the heat landed faster than you feared. he listened to the clink of your chopsticks, and the breaths of suppressing coughs.
he didn’t answer immediately. instead, he slipped one hand toward the folds of his outer robe and pulled out the small bamboo vessel he always carried—the same one worn soft from years of travel. without a word, he unscrewed the cap, and extended it in your direction.
you stared. “what is it?”
“it helps,” he said simply. “just don’t gulp it like tea.”
you took it anyway, more out of covet than common sense, and tipped the flask back. . . and immediate regret hit. the burn washed sharper than the spice, racing down your throat like a flame. you coughed again, louder this time, tears forming as you shoved the container back at him.
“really?” you croaked.
he hummed, barely hiding the small pull of a smile. “it tends to help me.”
you shook your head, still swallowing around the burn. “i don’t understand how you enjoy that.” the burn slowly settled. “. . . maybe my spice measurements weren’t right.”
“mhm.” he took another bite. “or maybe you forgot you were cooking for two.”
“i guess.” you mumbled.
he didn’t press, but you could feel the quiet satisfaction in the way he reached for another piece. there was a rhythm to this—eating beside him again, like no time had passed.
“. . .you said you were waiting for me,” he said after a moment, setting his bowl down. “mhm,” you nodded, reaching for a water cup. he was quiet for a while, fingers resting near the edge of the table. then, “what if i’d been another day late?”
you borrowed seconds before answering. “you weren’t.” you said, pouring a drink.
“but what if?”
you lowered your cup. “. . . then i’d simply eat at night.”
qiuyuan’s brow twitched slightly, not in disapproval, but something close to guilt. “you shouldn’t have to get used to that.”
“it’s not so bad” you replied, taking a sip off the water. “the food stays warm for a while. and i know you always arrive some day during this season.”
he nodded, accepting your honesty. you could tell he was chewing on something, not the food, but the kind of thought he rarely shared aloud.
you leaned back against the wall, letting the warm air fill the space between you. “you’re thinner,” you said at last.
“the road got longer,” he answered. “busier than i’d like.”
“busy with the people who’d follow you here?” you didn’t mean to make it sound like a question. but it still managed to.
his eating paused. “some of them would, if i were careless.”
your eyes perked at the sudden shift in frequency. his hand shifted—slow fingertips brushing along the grain of the table, grounding himself there.
you exhaled, watching steam rise from your own half-finished bowl. “. . . do you think it’ll ever stop?” you asked quietly.
he tilted his head, listening. “not while they still believe i owe them something.”
the room held its steam and its questions. just a little after finishing your food, you had set your plate down first. “then. . . at least owe me a walk. i have to pick up some early vegetation!”
he huffed a quiet a laugh, fingertips skimming the table’s edge before standing. the bowls clicked once as you stacked them out of the way; the lamp on the shelf settled to a smaller flame.
you nudged open the door that led outside. feeling the warm blessings of spring blossom in every flora and shrub.
“careful,” qiuyuan murmured out of habit, though he was already walking his way through the herbs.
his hand ghosted the doorframe, then found your sleeve. outside, early light lay along the yard.
you guided him along the worn stones, naming obstacles only when they mattered—despite him not needing the help.
somewhere a pail tapped the well-ring and went quiet. he matched your pace, shoes brushing the soil, head tipped to follow the small sounds. you steadied him at the elbow over the dip by the fence, he found the post with his knuckles, then the frayed bit of twine you’d retied that afternoon.
“. . .seems like you also moved the plantation,” he said softly.
you smiled, kneeling beside the bloom patch. “the sun reaches this hill first.”
he didn’t speak, but you could tell he was listening to more than just your voice. so you plucked the softer petals gently, placing them in the small woven pouch you carried for gathering.
“will you wait for me next spring?” he asked, the words unhurried.
you glanced at him. feeling a sudden knot in your throat. “. . .i’ll always be here.”
the pouch rustled as you tied it shut. he stepped closer, then crouched beside you, his hand brushing against the grass.
“the last time i asked that,” he said, “you didn’t answer.”
“i was angry,” you murmured. “to be fair, i just wish i could see you more than once every moon cycle. . .”
he understood that feeling all too well, maybe he wished the same. even so, there’s only so much answers you can borrow from life.
he nodded once, then reached up and gently pressed something into your palm—the metal seal tied across his chest.
“just until i come back,” he said. “keep it by the window.”
you blinked. “qiuyuan. . .”
“don’t wear it. don’t take it out.” he stood again. “just. . . keep it close. something so you don’t feel so isolated.”
you stared down at it, the silver polished smooth despite the years. he had carried this emblem ever since you had the blessing to meet him. never knowing exactly what it meant.
. . .he was never the kind to ask for goodbyes. didn’t dramatize the moment or scold you for your emotions in the few moments he had to be with you. he just reached for your hands again, fingertips grazing your knuckles once before pulling you with him.
his hands wandered your frame. the ticklish sensation blooming a laugh or two from both.
his fingers brushed your cheeks first, as if recalling themselves with what hadn’t changed. then your jaw, the button of your nose, the curve of your cheeks. his touch was impossibly gentle just to remember every slope.
his thumb traced just beneath your eyes. “. . .they feel softer.”
“i’ve been sleeping better,” you murmured. “since the retroact rains stopped.”
his mouth curved faintly. and for a mere second, his eyes seemed to have brightened.
“you are just as beautiful as i remember,” he said, tracing the shape of your lips.
you felt the air shift as he leaned in, stopping just short of you.
you didn’t move—not because you were nervous, but because he didn’t need you to. you didn’t have to close the space between. he already knew where you were.
his nose brushed against yours, just briefly, before his lips met the corner of your mouth, light and deliberate. he always started there—as if working his way back into your memory in pieces.
you exhaled, not quite a laugh, just something warm caught in your throat. your hands settled lightly over his chest.
his hands were careful even when they were sure. the second kiss landed at the other corner of your mouth, a polar to the first, and then he pressed a third, smaller one at the center, light enough to leave room for a smile.
“once every spring,” he said, almost to himself. “. . .yet it’s a time i’m willing to wait.”
you laughed, quietly, despite feeling the tears begin to cloud your judgement.
𓂃 . 𝒎𝒖𝒔𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 , yay by the time this is published qiuyuan’s out!
so umm there’s not much to base this off of, in other words not a lot known of him yet. but hopefully once i get him i’ll go through his lore, voice lines, and companion quest and see everything i got wrong (or right, maybe) but yeah!
please enjoy this for now <3 i started this draft around october 23rd? finished 25th and edited today, hooray! sorry it’s a bit long or sounds repetitive, it’s been some time since i last wrote something. . .
anyway, i’ve yet to pull on his banner because i’m so nervousss!
i really wanna get his s3 so i can use him as a dps (because what the freak is his kit, i’ll probably still end up getting him s6 because he’s so cutie). . . to be honest i’m planning on getting all the characters i use s3 one day since i already have jiyan s1 and calcharo s2, yay! but not so yay because jiyan’s second sequence borrowed 160+ wishes off of me :( and that means i have to save for brant too. . . ughhh it’s a whole thing. i’m so butt at this game, i basically only know how to build dps or healers.
but yes! many prayers and luck upon those who plan on wishing for qiuyuan, or any characters in the future! ૮꒰ྀིっ˕ ς ꒱ྀིა
yk i was supposed to use ‘musings’ as my little chat box but i just end up using the tags aswell anyway. i’m too lazy to change them now sorry for the abundance of #’s :(
